Seven Minutes in Heaven
by catopiuh
Summary: When it came to Marth and Roy, they quite literally were 'in the closet' about their relationship. MarthxRoy, PWP


Disclaimer: Marth and Roy do not belong to me.

Psh, you know the Smashers would be immature and play party games like this in the after-party celebration of a Smash tournament.

Short little PWP (pretty much) that I wrote as part of an art trade~ or fic trade on my side, rather.

* * *

They had seven minutes tops.

In truth they had about six minutes, because from the time they were both shoved into the closet together, it took Roy a good fifteen seconds before a mischievous grin rose on his face, another ten for his suggestion to be revealed, and another twenty seconds for Marth to submit to the suggestion -- but the Prince was not one for exhibitionism, and would not be caught.

And so, he had stated quite plainly, they had seven minutes tops in the closet. They had to be done by then. It was said in a serious tone, Marth's skeptical 'I'm-not-sure-this-is-a-good-idea-but-and-am-probably-going-to-say-I-told-you-so-later' tone, implying that he was only doing it because Roy had him wrapped around his pinky finger. In the long shot it was really more of the reverse -- more that Marth knew how to predict Roy well. And surely enough, just as he believed, the tone sparked something in the younger boy's eyes -- a look of challenge. And when Roy saw something as a challenge, it _would_ be obtained.

Marth had to hide his smirk when the younger boy eagerly pressed him against the wall of the closet.

The challenge was all in a quick flurry of touches and kiss, in hungry mouths and roaming hands. Each minute could be divided into a separate category of actions -- the first minute could be categorized by kisses. There was lots of attention on his mouth, for Marth had come to learn that it was possibly this that Roy adored most by the frequent nibbles on his lower lips and eager moans whenever Marth's lips moved elsewhere. Things were more silent and hushed now, but he still heard the excited tremble in Roy's breath as he ran his tongue along the curve of the redhead's neck, still loved the way his body arched against him as his fingers curled into the shirt by the small of his back. Still _felt _the silent pleasure run through his body in a shudder as it pressed close to him, straddling his lap. The kisses ran further south.

The second minute could be attributed to touch alone. Just as Marth knew of Roy's love for his mouth, Roy was well aware of Marth's own adoration for the feel of skin in its entirety. He knew it by how he could feel Marth's lips curve into a smile against his skin when he started running his hands up the redhead's shirt, caressing every inch he could reach. He arched his back gladly into the touch, appreciative of the way the Prince's soft fingertips grazed up his spine, sending goosebumps in their wake. Loved how Marth grew more eager at the arch, how his hands pressed flat to caress with his entire palm now, how he grinded his hips up slightly in appreciation for the response in a way that made Roy want to melt against him -- only, getting softer was certainly far from what he was actually doing.

Tick tock, the third minute came, their half-way point. Little whispers, mostly on Roy's part who had difficulty remaining silent for so long -- "Shh," as if it was Marth who was being noisy with little groans and 'nngh's, not himself, "we gotta hurry." There was only a small smile in response, for that was all Marth ever gave, but it was accompanied with a hand drifting down down down his stomach which tugged a grin from Roy as well. Strokes (soft at first but growing harder for there was no time to waste) worked against the younger boy's breeches, who's breath hitched. Sensing the oncoming moan from the boy, Marth quickly covered his mouth with his own, deepening it to keep him silent. There was no time to waste with turn-taking, and while pressing into the kiss and the hand Roy slipped his own gloved hand between them, lowering between Marth's legs as well.

As for the next three minutes, they could only be measured by their pants for breath and bucking hips, by hands slipping deeper beneath the folds of clothing as they rubbed one another. It could also probably be measured by the temperature, which had surely raised considerably by the way that it was growing so hot and their breaths were coming thinner. There were only quiet gasps and whispers now, coming from not one but both of them, coming in little whispers and demands of "faster, _tighter_" and surely enough, tightened grips and increased speeds. They bucked clumsily against one another, racing for the release that was so close, but too painfully far. They didn't have the time, and so it was all quick and fast and a blur of lust and arousal.

It was Roy who came first, cry only weakly muffed by Marth's lips as his hips jerked up. He panted and started to relax, but Marth grunted urgently, regaining his attention, grip tightening almost hazily as his own high started to fade. His vision finally cleared to catch the tail end of the Prince's own release, the bluenette's pretty eyes fluttered shut and mouth open in pleasure as he gave a long sigh. A little grin twittered to his lips.

_Tick,_ seven minutes. They breathed raggedly as they pulled away from each other, separating and wiping their hands off. Roy was grinning rather cockily, whispering, "I told you we could do it." Marth simply smiled a little knowingly and shrugged to himself fixing his hair as the boy-General turned expectantly to the door, trying to get the flush off his face as he awaited for the door to re-open, ready to pretend to be irritated, scowl at the Smashers on the other side and act like nothing had happened.

The minutes went by. Marth turned to the door expectantly as well, and soon they were both frowning, for it had surely been much past seven minutes now. It was Marth who knocked on the door, calling out to them formally, "I believe it has been seven minutes, if we may now be released."

Silence.

Roy tried this time, calling, "Hey, guys? Can we come out now?" Yet again, no answer, and he pressed his ear to the door, listening. After a moment of holding his breath and listening, Marth staring at him intently awaiting some words, the redhead's frown only deepened, which only served to deepen the Prince's frown. He pulled away, mouth opening slightly in disbelief in calling again, an air of finality in his words, "Hello?"

"... they are not out there, are they?"

Sounding nearly insulted, Roy turned to him, exclaiming, "No! They just _left _us!" Rather offended at the prospect of being left alone (perhaps forgotten) by his friends, the petite boy pulled away from the door and huffed against the wall in annoyance. Marth regarded him for a moment, looking between the ruffled redhead and the still-locked door, before slowly crawling over to the redhead's side. Ignoring the irritation leaking from the shorter boy, Marth gave a small smile and leaned down, pressing his lips to Roy's.

The redhead looked up with a raised eyebrows, allowing it, but when the Prince moved to pin him to the wall, he pulled away with a curious and slightly amused look. "The game's over, you know," he whispered, eyes flicking across his face.

"I am aware," Marth returned, his own smile turning slightly mischievous. "So we have more than seven minutes, I believe."

The words slowly registered, and Roy let out a little noise of delight as Marth crawled over him and attacked his lips again with a grin.


End file.
